Medicinal Contact
by MissMaiamai
Summary: His laugh is so smooth and nice, his embrace is so warming. His arms are a blanket that encloses around me and keeps me safe. I see his face, but... it is wrong. My fingerprints across his cheeks are red, and there's blood streaming from his hairline. He has no pulse. ToTT.
1. Chapter 1

"Wait a second, what did you say I was again?"

"A carnation," he replied softly against my forehead. "They're small, delicate, sweet-smelling," he placed a tiny kiss on my temple, "yet bold and vivacious."

"Mm," I agreed, grinning into his shirt.

"So what about me?" he wondered, leaning back to look at me. His eyes were jewels: vibrant jades boring into me. "What am I?"

"Well..." I puffed. "If you were a flower, I'd think you were a..." I pursed my lips, recalling all the flowers he once told me about.

"I think you would be a rose."

He looked intrigued, but didn't say anything. His eyes were the ones asking for an explanation.

"Well," I explained, "picking a rose is kind of like how I got to know you. Your petals attracted me to you, but then I pricked myself on your thorns. It wasn't until I knew just how to handle you that I really could," I said, a light simper on my face. "You let me in and I could see just how amazing you are."

"You don't know many flowers with thorns," he whispered mockingly.

"Well, what if I called you a cactus? Like, you've got flowers and they're pretty, but for the most part you're just a big, ugly, pain in the neck," I protested.

He smiled. It was one of those genuine smiles in which he actually shared his teeth. Mostly he preferred sly smirks and grins (if he happened to smile) where his lips would curve ever-so-slightly. This, however, was one of his real smiles.

My grip around him tightened as I thought. He entwined his fingers in mine, and I relished in the contact. This kind of closeness made my heart flutter, feverish. It warmed me up.

He then let go, turning his body away from me. His eyes evaded me, unable to make contact with mine. I pouted.

"Cam? Don't go," I whispered, reaching out and catching his hand. "Not yet."

He was silent, and that silence filled my heart. A sudden, strong force swept over me and relinquished me of my passion. I felt empty.

"Cam?"

My balance left me. Nothing was left in my arms, nor did his embrace steady me; I hitched and caught myself with an instinctive foot. He faded, dissipated into dust between my fingertips. I saw that dust, the only thing left, as the world around me closed up with blackness.

An eerie chill traveled up my spine.

"Cam!" I shouted, desperate.

When he did not reply, I knew why.

My eyes opened to drink the light of the real world. My heart felt heavy. However, as if some hope still existed inside of me, my hand instinctively touched the other side of the bed. I felt nothing. There was no presence there to hold onto. No gruff morning voice groaning a reluctant "good morning, love," in my ear.

If I had the choice, I might have chosen to live inside that black world of darkness; it was brighter than this one, where the man in my bed did not exist. The man who showered me with affections and flicked on the happiness inside of me no longer existed.

I felt, quite simply, like a rock. Everything passed by me as if my body had become heavy, rooted to the ground. In this stoic state I sat and watched the clouds pass.

It had been a month. I even had moved into Konohana to rid of the awful memories stuck inside my head. But they still lingered around me like ghosts – little ghosts, poking into my head and making me remember the things that brought tears to my eyes.

My feet touched the floor. The surface felt cold, and it abused my bare feet. I reached the coat rack across the room, pulled off one jacket I scarcely touched and threw it over my shoulders. I kicked my feet into tall boots. Clad in the same clothes I wore last night, a grey t-shirt and sweats, I pulled open the front door. Wind whipped me. I withdrew, now hearing the howl of wind around my walls.

"Goddess," I whispered. "Ah!"

My foot misplaced itself on the doorstep. The slight fall surprised my heart: it thundered in my chest.

Lazy, tired steps in these boots a size too big. Reality mocked me. Maybe it was safer for me to stay inside, but I couldn't. When I moved to this creaky village, I brought my favorite animals with me. The two cows and chickens allowed me to reside in my farm, supplying me with local milk and eggs. Recently, the stock had been piling up in my fridge.

I pushed into the autumn. Speckled leaves, damp, coated the ground around my house in a variety of colors. Beneath them puddles from the seasonal rain lingered. I stepped through them, sloshing the leaves across the ground. Mud caked on my boots. The sounds of rustling leaves and my suction cup boots filled the air.

Eventually, I found the barn and opened the door with dirty hands - I had taken a couple of slips along the way. The cows gave me moos of delight, happy to get their care for the day. They did not receive nearly as much tending as they used to, but they appeared enough sated with each passing day. Robin, the elder of the two, mooed with anticipation as I neared her. Dirt coated her hide, as I expected – she fondly sat on the ground and rolled around before sleep. I pushed past her where, on a nearby shelf, I fetched the brush and began grooming her. Mirabelle, the other of my cows, grumbled in envy and approached me as well. She, while very productive, rarely missed the opportunity to flaunt her attitude. It was one that demanded affections, unlike Robin who could find amusement hiding in the fence around the pasture.

An hour rolled by of tending to the cows and chickens. I found the hens nestled up in a high corner of the barn, away from their nests. They leered at me as I did my work and refused to move as I spread their feed. They yielded eggs, but I couldn't help but feel like they judged me from up there because when I looked at them, they never spoke to me like the cows did.

By the time the sun was coming up, I left the barn, leaving the doors ajar for the animals to venture into the pasture. Here, in the pasture, the mud did not clod and stick to my shoes, so I walked over to the gate, closed it behind me, and evasively stepped around the puddles that tormented the rest of the yard. Before I reached the house, clouds once again shrouded the little light Konohana ever received. I watched the fleeting light, no longer paying heed to my steps.

The field expanded over much of my land, much more than my last plot had. The light crawled over it to escape the ominous clouds above. Like always, it lost, swallowed up by the cumulonimbus masses.

When I looked out on the field, I felt anticipation. And yet the soil laid untouched; it swelled with nutrients collected from the raindrops and runoff.

It didn't matter.

My feet automatically brought me to the house. I didn't bother with the light, nor did I care for the dirtied coat and boots. I simply threw the items in a basket and stopped in front of the door, gazing out the glossy window.

I couldn't recall what exactly went through my head. It was a lot of things. I asked myself why I continued on.

It was because of my hope. A tiny, miniscule shred of hope inside me hoped he would come back. A shred of me knew I would feel that love again - _he_ would bring it back to me.

I wanted the kisses, the touches, the hurt. I wanted Mondays to miss him, and the next days to relish in him. I wanted to bask in affections under his eyes. I wanted his plain, awful criticisms so I could brush them off and tell him he was a fool. I wanted him to seethe with anger. I wanted him to get mean.

But then the casket flashed in my mind. It brought a familiar lump to my throat and terrorized me until I was forced to tears because I couldn't breathe. Shaking, I fell to my knees into a nasty puddle of water I had dragged in with my boots.

I held the door for support, but nothing could hold back the wracking sobs, the utter insanity I felt inside of me. It haunted me, never left me alone, and never let me free.

I wanted my love. Goddess, I wanted him back so bad I would tear out my own heart to show him how much I loved him. I would show him nothing he did not enjoy, just as I wanted before. I would show him the best and only the best of me. Anything.

Anything wasn't good enough, I learned as I pounded on the door. When I stiffened, sore, I could no longer continue beating on the wood. My hands felt raw, abused. Good, but I couldn't go on anymore. I struggled to my feet and ripped the door open, holding back a fit of anxiety. I clenched my teeth together.

I was numb. I was cold. I was alone.

I was lost in frozen time. The rain trickled down forever. It left the ground spongy and miserable, and it made me sick. Just like every other time I reached this point, I fell into the moss. I couldn't cry anymore; the sky did that for me.

I just couldn't handle my heart. Pain struck through me like I had been shot. The wound was open, festering.

The rain dripped down harder, pouring back into the puddles I hoped would disappear. My clothes became sodden, my hair frigid as the cool breeze swept it across the bridge of my nose. I shivered. At least I had no more tears to shed; they would freeze as they ran down my face. Salty, pitiful icicles.

The clouds revealed the sun for a moment, and it beamed down, casting an evanescent warmth over me. The wind, however, swept this warmth away from me.

After a moment I felt myself being hoisted up by someone. Who, I could not fathom, but the arms felt very unfamiliar. They were not warm either. My heart instantly gave an erratic beat, alerting me to the danger.

They picked me up beneath my armpits and carried me back in the house. Inside, she set me on a chair at the dining room table. I released the breath I had been safeguarding within my chest, uneasy. She revealed herself, clad in hooded robes. She said nothing as she went to the closet and plucked a towel from the shelves.

" _Lillian_ ," she chided, tossing the towel at me.

Ina. Yes, I knew her. I had to speak with her to move into Konohana.

"It is of utmost importance that you take care of yourself," she explained, demanding. "I will not have my villagers sick."

I grimaced, lowering my head. My hair hung around my head in mats. A sickness would be easy, but no antibiotic existed to treat the way my heart felt broken. Cough syrup might dull the pain. Ibuprofen, even.

I lifted the towel to dry my hair when she came up to me and roughly tied it around my shoulders. My breath hitched, brow furrowed darkly.

"You will change into dry clothes," she stated, stern.

I obeyed, struck by her dominance. If I dared question her rule... My body, on autopilot, rose from its seat and wandered to the closet, where I picked a fresh pair of clothes. I did not hesitate to enter the bathroom and strip myself of the sodden fabrics. I left swatches of mud across the tile and all over the towel, but with her in my home, monitoring me, I had no other choice.

She did not belong here. My heart beat furiously, reminding me what was wrong with every passing second.

I took my time in the bathroom, hoping that she would leave. However, she waited me out, and I meekly stepped into the hallway to meet her gaze. Her eyes hosted power and control. I struggled to feel at ease under her glance. That alongside her commanding countenance and powerful vocal approach, I wilted in compliance.

"Lillian," she said, a little softer now. "I know this might not help, but I understand your pain."

I shook my head and threw my things in the laundry basket beside my bed. She grabbed for my arm. When I noticed it, I tore myself away, staring her down.

 _Don't touch me,_ I thought.

She knew she had made a mistake. For a moment she watched for the next move, but when I did not react, she whirled around to sit at the table.

"Sit."

I refused and continued standing. She sighed and began:

"I lost my husband years ago. When our son was an infant, a terrible infection befell his father. I could never see him for the worry that I would infect our child. I've had to survive this way without him. But we make it through because life is so much more than what you see right now."

I continued standing.

"Lillian, please, open your eyes. I used to get asked about your condition daily. Your friends want to see you, but you shut them out."

I would have shut Ina out too. No more talk of me, please, I hoped.

"Please, Lillian."

I shook my head.

"I can't," I whimpered.

Ina stared at me for a while. I averted my gaze.

"Think about yourself, Lillian," she reminded, gathering herself from the opposite side of the table.

She stayed for a while longer, giving me soft encouragements. I ignored the bulk of them, hoping at some point she would decide to leave. That blissful time eventually came.

"Oh, and Lillian? The Music Festival will be held tomorrow night in Town Hall. Someone mentioned to me a long time ago that you love live performances," she coaxed, a smile riding her lips.

My heart skipped a beat. She was speaking of Cam, no doubt.

"I will take my leave now. Please, keep yourself warm. Make some hot soup. I know Mako left some for you yesterday. Lillian... stay well. Goodbye."

Once the door shut, I was left alone again within the confines of my home. It smelled of rain, but inside, the air crackled with dryness. It eagerly nipped my bare skin. To combat it, I pressed my calves together and lowered my head.

Do not get sick, I felt her voice in my head say. Thoughts stirred in my mind - unwelcome thoughts. However, I found myself enticed.

It will never get better. Ina still missed her husband, and she was stronger than me.

I sat on the chair for what felt like ages. Outside, the rain trickled down. It collected in pools on my windows.

He will be gone. Forever.

I picked myself up and out of the chair, and I walked toward the bathroom. A surge of - what? - urgency pulsed through me. Anxiety. I felt like Ina could bust through the door at any moment, and it scared me. I was scared it wouldn't work. I swung the door open and abruptly stopped at the mirror.

Lately I scarcely paid heed to my appearance. I showered whenever necessary, and I always sat in the drizzle until the water ran cold. That was the extent of my beauty routine, and my face betrayed negligence. My skin lost its former luster. My eyes were swollen and dark from the aching exhaustion.

Uncaring, I rummaged through the cabinet behind the mirror. To find the pain pills where I imagined they would be was astounding. Maybe it could work yet. I spilled the entire contents onto the counter. Sixteen in all.

Could that be enough? My heart pulsed, hard. I brushed the lot of them off of the counter into the cup of my hand, and I looked up to the mirror.

Something felt wrong. This was too sudden, too fast. I felt eyes on me. Like on tiptoes, I turned around, searching the hallway and behind the shower curtain.

I saw him. _Him._ His visage appeared before me, a specter in the center of my view. His face looked alien, and yet I knew who it was with certainty. His face was covered in bloody tissues. The flesh had been pulled away in rags, and it hung down away from its original place. Down his chest had been mutilated, whatever covering it barely resembling cloth.

I couldn't tell if he was telling me no or anticipating what was to come. At any rate, I threw down my hand to the counter. The pills scattered across the granite, several of them bouncing onto the tile floor. His face had only flashed for a moment, but it was enough. My heart raced at light speeds.

I rocked back to touch the wall and tapped it with my knuckles. The texture scratched my skin, but feeling the palpable surface welcomed me.

That thing - monster - whatever it was, wasn't my love. There was no life to it; all I could feel was a steady wave of nothing off of it. It was an apparition. A simple apparition of him.

I was truly going crazy. Maybe. I tried desperately to clear the picture from my mind. I blinked repeatedly, rubbed my temples and shook my head.

Why else would the spirit visit me now? I swallowed, hard. I threw away the pills.

Later, I heated some soup and sipped it. It gave me comfort from chills as I sat at the counter, hands cupping the bowl to warm them. While the presence had vanished as soon as it had appeared, I felt uncomfortable in my skin, as if it was still watching me.

That night I crawled into bed with that certain disturbing image in my mind. As I imagined it, the picture grew increasingly sharper, cleaner. I cringed when I closed my eyes to it: mangled, disfigured proportions of a once body.

Sleep claimed me in the night despite. While beneath the covers, something gave me the comfort I longed for. However, whether the feeling originated from the specter or the soup... that I could not tell.

* * *

 _A/N: Ha, ha... One day of free writing and this is what I come up with. The name is crazy! Genius, how did I get this GOOD?! Jk... Please review! I promise I'll love you. 3 :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Dear, Helen,_

 _Okay._

* * *

I twirled around in my mirror. My fingers tugged at the edge of skirt. My toes tapped on the floor.

This morning, I awoke groggy. My eyes peeled open and watched the familiar home before me. Slowly, I crawled out of bed, dressed in a jacket and boots, and went to tend to the animals. The ground felt spongey as ever, and the thick material clung to my boots. Today, again the chickens nestled in that high corner of the barn. Once finished I took my boots to the bathroom and dropped them into the bathtub. They painted the tub with mud, so turned on the shower. The mud washed away. Then I turned to the mirror, leaving the water running.

Looking at my own appearance reminded me of the specter. Coolness drafted over my neck, picking the hairs up instantly. I smoothed my hair down on my neck and closed the door to keep from shivering.

Warmth filled the room. The steam puffed. I couldn't help the temptation. I slipped out of my clothes and into the shower. The heat relaxed my muscles which had become stiffened during my slumber. I washed my face, putting it directly beneath the hot stream. My eyes burned. Then I massaged my scalp, pouring a bit more shampoo than I should have. The substance frothed, bubbles running down into a pool near the drain. I shut off the water and pulled a towel from the rack. I pressed it against the droplets on my face.

When I stepped out of the shower, I saw something I had not previously noticed. A pen on the floor. Specifically it was an eyeliner pen from my makeup. How it had gotten there surprised me - my makeup had been put away in drawers and had not been unearthed since. I wrapped the towel around my body and snatched the pen from the floor. My first thought told me to put it away, so I opened the drawer. My next thought had me pulling out the entire makeup kit, wiping the mirror with my hand.

How a ghost had done something like this bewildered me, but I accepted it. He knew it made me feel good to have my makeup done, to look good.

"Okay," I whispered, opening up the kit and delving inside.

I spent over an hour in the bathroom leaning over the counter, applying my makeup. It managed to steal my attention away from everything else. I had to draw a perfect line or I had to start over. But before I knew it, I was done. For once, my complexion looked even. The dark bags that usually haunted me had been covered up.

It felt good.

Later, I decided to dress well too. I put on a dress, boots, and a plain jacket. My fingers constantly toyed with the skirt of my dress. My toes tapped the ground to get a proper look at the boots. My hair had dried, and I played with that too.

Even though hunger mocked me, I didn't eat. I would not want to spill on my clothes.

The day went on as usual with nothing else to do. I could think of anything, so I sat, collected in my thoughts, at the dining room. I heated more soup on the stove and hunched over to sip it without spilling. Warm, yet it had lost flavor due to time sitting in the fridge. The carrots became mush on my tongue, and the cabbage had absorbed the yellow color of the broth. Still, it satisfied.

I couldn't help but feel I was missing so much. I felt like there were still things to do when their were none. The animals were fed and tended. I prettied myself. I ate. My mind had enough sleep for a century. So I felt the presence of this feeling mock me. It prodded me until the sun went down, when I got up from the table and turned toward my bathroom, deciding I had had this paste on my face long enough.

 _Thud._

On instinct I backed myself into the kitchen. The sound had happened across my room, by my bedside. I looked that way, my heart pounding from the abrupt startle.

A single book laid on the floor. It had fallen from the bookcase, and it opened to a random page. My anticipation waned seeing as there was nothing to fear. The specter had not come back to haunt me. I walked around and scooped the book up to replace it on the bookcase. However, I noticed where it had been - behind the rest of the books. Also, the front was scribed in calligraphic font: The Art of Solfège. I swallowed.

The specter leaned over my shoulder and breathed down my neck, he was so close. There was no warmth. No love. I swatted him away, knowing he was nothing compared to my true love. I left the book on top of the bookcase and turned.

"You think you're smart?" I said into the empty air. He had left. Good, because I didn't want to see his putrid face. I didn't want to deal with him, I didn't want him in my home.

"I'm not going."

I felt the air chill around me, and I immediately regretted saying anything to him. My throat constricted, and as I swallowed again, it hurt. I also noticed spots on my shoulder ache like before. I always associated this pain with my love, but this time, my heart felt nothing.

"Stop."

Then my heart felt it. My breathing ceased, hard, firm, like a switch. It cut off my air. It wasn't long though; before long, I coughed, my airway won over. I rested a hand over my throat and sputtered:

"I'm sorry."

Then I hobbled to the door, stole a coat from the rack and weakly exited the doorway. I left the door unlocked despite the keys in the coat's pocket. I hoped the specter would find his way out in this windy weather. It was chilly, chilly enough I was glad I grabbed my jacket, but as I walked away from the comfort of my home, I felt the burdening coldness of distress. I didn't have a safety to hold onto out here. But, inside my house, I didn't have one either now.

Why did the specter show up now? Was it because he wanted me to go to this inane music festival? I had cds of classical music, and I put them on often. They filled my home with life. I hummed with them, staring up at the ceiling. Sometimes I wrote little stories in my journal while I listened to them.

"Lillian?"

I looked up and lost my footing. A rough patch on the ground caught me, and I almost toppled into the mud, had it not been for him to catch me.

"Mikhail," I breathed.

"You're going to the festival," he acknowledged with a broad smile, one I think I had never seen on him before. All I remembered of him were the placid expressions as he played his violin. Now, he looked entirely elated.

"Th-thank you," I said. I tested gravity with my feet, and it seemed friction had been restored. He released my arm. I complained: "Shouldn't you be there now?"

"Technically. But I had to be certain you upheld your promise. And Hiro is busy in the clinic."

I searched my mind for the baffling reason WHY. What had I done? Nothing close to recollection of the idea even ghosted my mind. He saw this particular bemused look on my face and explained, guiding my steps up the farm, into town:

"It was spring. We were in the tea house, and you mentioned you were fond of live performances."

I had to grab onto him for support as we traversed another muddy patch.

"That was a Monday," I said.

He nodded. "You were upset you lost the festival that week."

I pursed my lips. "Hiro took me to the tea house."

"I just so happened to have finished practicing and stopped by."

I nodded and pursed my lips. He stopped walking, and so did I. He looked at me, worried, and I stared back. The moment I had let go of his arm, I slowed to the point I was barely moving, and he was now questioning me with his eyes.

"Sorry. I have a lot on my mind," I confessed. I caught up to him in a manner of a few quick strides, realizing he wouldn't dare leave me behind.

"That's alright. You'll be able to sort your thoughts listening to the music."

"Yes," I agreed. Maybe I would conjured an idea to banish the specter.

The sunset lit up the sky. I stared at it the entirety of the time we walked. Every time Mikhail looked over to ensure I kept up with him, he smiled, but I, too focused on the canvas sky painted out beyond the trees, always noticed the gesture too late to acknowledge it. It had been a long time since I had truly experience a sunset, and tonight, the colors were brilliant. Also brilliant was the greenery around town. The plants amazed me how long they kept in the cold, damp weather recently. The flowers had diminished, but everything else flourished despite the freezing temperatures that manifested as the sun departed each night. I smiled at this, and I think Mikhail mentally noted it too. He searched the town just as I did.

I began to enjoy our walk. Too bad for me, because I forcefully sped up my pace, quickened it more than Mikhail who now followed me. The wind picked up and put uncomfortable chill on my legs. They were covered by thin leggings, and the wind easily seeped through the fabric. The sky had died from its previous beauty intensely quick.

"It's here," Mikhail said eventually.

I turned into the town hall, where the Music Festival took place. The warmth of the room greeted me like an old friend, and I relished in it. Mikhail, however, didn't have such luck. The moment he stepped in the door he was bombarded by people, saying he should not have left, saying he was late. I stepped away from them, and he, looking not at all overwhelmed, brushed their comments off and took to the back room to prepare his performance. They looked irritated, and they gave skeptical glances my direction. I turned away from them, hoping I did not look as abashed as I felt. My cheeks were hot with embarrassment.

As of now, there was no music in the chamber, but rather chit-chat of the people present. The town hall had been cleaned and prepped for the party, and those who occupied it were all townspeople. I knew no one from the other town. Instead, I saw Mako, Reina, Kana, Nori. Ying danced around Yun, who was seated in the corner of the room. Ina spoke to Mako. My skin crawled seeing her, but I ignored the feeling the best I could handle and took a seat in a nearby chair. Nori, who had been receiving attention from Kana, turned away, saw me, and waved heartily. Her smile was warm, and seeing it, Kana forced himself to wave as well. I grinned back at them, laughing a little at Kana's attempt.

Waiting for the music to begin wasn't as painful as I imagined. I had a preconceived notion that people would force themselves to speak with me, to dig my feelings out from inside me. Rather, they kept their distance well, acting friendly whenever possible in normal circumstance. None of them went out of their way to have a conversation - save for Mikhail, who traveled across town to find me. I enjoyed that pleasantry of courtesy.

Then, the makeshift curtains on the similarly makeshift stage rolled back. Everyone found a seat. The lights dimmed. A quartet appeared on the stage, Mikhail included. He wore a garb unlike he had worn before. This one was purely black and white, with the coattails he was so fond of. The others, whom I did not recognize, wore similar suits. Mikhail began the first note.

This first melody made me sleepy. The next kept me alert. Meanwhile, every musician was so talented with their own instrument it made my heart hurt that I ever stopped playing music for myself. That book of solfège study on my shelf had been left untouched for so long it gathered dust, and I did not think Iwould be able to recite even a single piece of it.

Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do.

I went through the hand motions with my hand very surreptitiously.

Then, much less scrupulous in secrecy than I had been, a figure slipped in the doorway. I acted politely obvious to the intrusion. That was, until he sat next to me.

"Lillian?" he whispered, claiming the seat next to me. "So Mikhail did find you."

My eyes had been fixed on the stage, so in the dark I could not immediately make out his face. I knew, however, Mikhail had mentioned him previously and I recalled his voice from our many talks.

"Yeah, he did. I was coming anyway."

"That's awesome!" he whispered enthusiastically. "I didn't think you'd remember the promise."

I didn't remember it. I was forced to come. Hiro's face now became visible in the dark, and I frowned at him.

"What's wrong?" he wondered.

"Nothing," I lied. "We should... be quieter."

"True... Sorry."

The truth was, if the specter hadn't been living in my home, I wouldn't be here now. I would be tightly curled up beneath my covers trying to sleep again. Trying to forget the cold. But now, I sat beside Hiro, and that reminded me of all the bad things.

Hiro was a doctor. He trained for years to become one, and now stood alongside Ayame. I heard Hiro didn't want to leave the friends he had made here, so Ayame looked into finding a job in another town or city now that Hiro had finished his apprenticeship.

Doctors bewildered me. They had their jobs because people died. But they also had the motivation to stop it. They were paid to keep people alive.

And so, why couldn't I have paid everything to keep my love alive? Why did he, of all people, have to die? I had money; that's how I afforded living like I did. The life insurance helped too.

I felt myself growing weak and tuned back into reality, where I noticed Hiro's breathing. It was uneven, and every once in a while he fidgeted. I glanced at his face, and instead of being focused on the stage, he stared at the ground. He looked tired. His hair had overgrown lately, and it whisked in different directions about his head. His face looked more chiseled, more mature than normal, like he hadn't been eating enough. No bags were present below his eyes to warrant my assumption however.

Still, I wanted to ask him the same question he did me. Before I could though, the lights turned back on, and the music continued to play.

"Oh, this is the best part," Hiro commented.

I looked around for an explanation, and people began rising from their seats. Hiro did as well, but I remained seated, watching to see.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked.

My heart pulsed. I hadn't expected this.

"No, not really," I admitted.

His face fell, but he accepted it and sat back down in his chair.

"What are you doing?" I wondered. "Why don't you go?"

He shrugged. "There's no one else I want to dance with."

"Hey," I chided lightly. "Don't guilt me."

"I'm not! I'm just saying it. But if it means you will..."

"No," I commanded. "No."

He relaxed in his seat, slightly more satisfied in himself than before. I knew it was because he got something out of me, and I frowned at that. Others around us began to dance, and only now did I realize the waltz style music filling the room, perfect for a partner dance. It was the kind of ballad Cinderella would have danced with her prince to.

1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1...

I watched the people and kept time in my head, only after a while to recall what I was going to pardon Hiro with.

"Hiro," I said. He glanced at me, and suddenly I felt my nerve to ask disappear. "I noticed you... staring at the floor, I... Are you okay?"

He blinked, like he hadn't even been aware of it.

"Yeah. I've been busy at the clinic. So many tourists are coming in with colds I haven't gotten a break."

"Okay," I murmured, leaning back into the seat as I had. I felt enormously awkward in that moment, and I was pleased that it didn't seem to affect him.

The rest of the festival rolled by, and I kept yawning. Hiro chided me for it, but I ignored the majority of this medical chatter. He told me about circadian rhythm and... I did not recall the rest.

Eventually he stood up and reach his hand out to me again. this time, I took it, noticing how much other people were heading to leave. I faltered on the way to my feet, but Hiro politely pardoned the mistake.

"Lillian," he said. "Thanks for fulfilling your promise."

My heart hurt when he said that. I didn't come for him. I came to relinquish myself of the pain in being home with the ghost.

"Of course," I murmured.

We allowed nearly everyone to leave before us including Mikhail, who was absolutely exhausted from focusing on the music for so long. He approached us on the porch. The wind blew nastily, and I curled my fingers in my sleeves.

The musician said a few things - things I didn't care to remember - and slipped into the night. I grew even colder by the seconds. So, I began walking off the porch. Hiro followed me, passed me, and then turned backwards to face me.

"What's-"

That was all he got out before on instinct, he grabbed my arm, and I lunged forward, hoping to stop this unfortunate mishap.

Too late. He bounded off the steps and lost his balance on the slick ground. He brought me down with him, and we both toppled into a heap on the ground, spattered in freezing mud. I fell on his chest, and being on top of him, I retracted instantly. A blush rose to my cheeks, shrouded by the darkness around us. He was much more lax and decided dawdle as he rose from the ground.

"Whoops," he breathed.

"I tried to warn you," I complained.

"That you did... your hands."

He clasped my hands in his, seeing as they were wet from the impact. He had fallen on his back and salvaged his hands. They were warm, stinging my frigid ones.

"I have pockets," I reminded.

"It'll be less of a problem to warm them sooner. Your fingers are freezing."

"You should get up," I said. "Or you'll be freezing."

He followed the suggestion and raised himself from the ground. Mud caked on his slacks, which he brushed off with his sleeves. Then he picked up my hands again - which I was reluctant to give - and he looked them over.

"Lillian, you're bleeding."

I was beginning to feel it. The warmth that had not previously been there was spreading across my palm. Chilled, I hadn't felt whatever it was that sliced into my hand. He pulled me along behind him.

"It's okay, I'll wash it when I get home," I complained.

"The clinic is only a block down the street. You won't have to risk an infection."

It felt wrong to say no. I really, really just wanted to go home and return to life like normal. But Hiro's attitude made it so hard to slap him and run.

When we arrived at the doorstep, I realized why he offered to come here first. My hand was legitimately sliced open, from one side of my palm to the other. Blood coated my fingers, ran down my wrists and dampened the sleeve of my jacket. He applied pressure with his hand and did not let go as he unlocked the door. I learned why. As soon as he did, sharp pain shot into my hand. I cried out quietly.

"Bring it to the sink, and wash it with lukewarm water."

Inside, the temperature was just high enough to burn my cheeks and my nose. My legs felt a similar feeling, but not quite as intense. I nodded, my hair lightly brushing these tender spots on my face. And I went to do as I was instructed. I didn't fail, however, to leave tiny droplets of blood in the entryway before reaching the kitchen area in back. I knew where most things were here, I'd been admitted to it many times in the past couple of years.

He came back with disinfectants, bandages, and paper towels. First, he blotted the moisture from my hand with a towel, then, before the blood began streaming again, sprayed disinfectant over it. That made me wince. He kept a straight face though as he applied the bandage. He placed a cotton pad to absorb the blood and then secured it with a linen wrap. I made a noise of disapproval, but once again, he ignored it until he finished fastening the linen.

"There," he said.

I tried to close my hand, but to no avail. The bandage had been wound so tightly it was impossible, and the pain kept me from doing so as well.

"Thank you," I said.

And then I yawned. Goddess, I had to yawn right then. Hiro made a mental note of my weariness.

"Do you wanna use one of the beds here tonight? It cold and late."

"No, I'm alright," I said.

He nodded and slipped his jacket - which he had shrugged off on a nearby chair - back on. I protested:

"What are you doing? I can go alone."

He shook his head. "I don't let anybody walk alone in these conditions. Plus, I was going to walk you back anyway."

I really wanted to be home, but I really didn't want to be burden for Hiro. He said he hadn't gotten a break all day. Plus, the specter lingered at my home, and that was something I did not want to return to.

"You know what? You're right. It too late to walk back. So... relax."

The doctor looked genuinely surprised by my comment. Also genuinely amused.

He said, "We have a guest room now. You know where?"

I nodded.

"Okay. If you need anything, come get me."

He shrugged off his jacket, left it on the coat wrack and departed through the hallway, and I, hesitant, walked in the same direction. I usually occupied a patient room in the opposite direction, but this time, I was a legitimate guest in the clinic. It was also the room in which Hiro stayed up until now. Ayame had left, so Hiro got the best of the rooms. Still, as I entered the room, it was of no stiflingly small size, in fact, it was larger than I expected. It had a closet, a dresser, a nightstand, a bookcase, and a queen size bed. The covers were made nicely, and I fell into them without an ounce of remorse. Then I flipped over to take my shoes off. Good, because Hiro might have seen me sprawled out on his bed if I hadn't moved just then.

The knock that came at the door made my heart seize up a little, wondering what he would need.

"Lillian, hey, do need anything to sleep in? You're dressed up pretty nice."

He sounded painfully awkward as he asked, and I felt just as strange answering.

"Maybe a t-shirt?"

He took no time in gathering the article of clothing and saying goodnight. He probably hadn't expected to have to ask that ever, but I didn't blame him. I wouldn't be prepared either. Actually, I wouldn't let anyone stay in my home - for fear they would do anything to me.

Was I afraid to sleep in the same house as Hiro? Not really, and that surprised me. If the thought approached my mind at the music festival, I would not have let us get this far.

I pulled off my dress and other clothes and slipped on the t-shirt. I kept my leggings on since I usually grew cold at night. The shirt Hiro had given me was red, with lettering I didn't recognize written on the front. I wasn't sure what exact ethnicity Hiro was, but this shirt definitely bore symbols of that language.

That, or maybe he had no idea what the letters meant either.

I slipped underneath the covers. They were cold at first, and I pinched my hand getting in, but soon it became more comfortable and I flicked off the lamp. I hadn't realized how tired my body was, and it gave into sleep astonishingly quickly in these new surroundings.

* * *

 _A/N: If you notice a style change in my writing, that's because I wrote the first chapter eons ago._

 _Please review if you like this, and review if you don't! I'm okay with it all. :)_


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